


Three's a Party

by MossPrinx



Series: Haremquisition [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F, F/M, Multi, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2016-03-07
Packaged: 2018-05-04 11:52:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5333105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MossPrinx/pseuds/MossPrinx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The sky's torn open, her hand is glowing, and her girlfriend is trying to set her up with the Chargers' cute lieutenant. What's an elf to do?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. How Embarrassing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Herald of Andraste gets caught spying on a Chargers exercise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the first of a series of shorts detailing the life and love of the dashing Krem and a lovely Lavellan Inquisitor! The way the chapters work is there will be main chapters, and then filler chapters (and they'll be noted as such at the start) in between. This is my first serious fanfic in a long, long time, and I hope you guys enjoy it!

      On days where Lavellan found herself somehow free of work, her papers signed and criminals judged, she made her way to various spots overlooking the training grounds. Sometimes it was to see if it was free, other times it was to…observe. It wasn’t weird in her mind, but she did make an effort to not look like she was ogling people while they trained. And she wasn’t, most of the time!

….

Most of the time.

     This was not one of those times. Lavellan was watching a Chargers exercise from a tavern balcony. A mix of heat-regulating magic and the intensity of the training had resulted in minor stripping, something that usually wouldn’t affect her—hell, she did it too. The warrior elf prided herself in her ability to stay as easy-going as possible in most situations. Most. Most situations also didn’t include one Cremisius Aclassi, shirtless and facing off against The Iron Bull in combat. Her eyes tended to gravitate to the young man regardless of situation, but this was just cruel—from her perch, her exceptional elven eyes could see lean muscle tighten and relax before and after each collision, sweat shine on the places his binding top didn’t cover (it didn’t cover much), the look of determination temporarily hardening his handsome face, how his hair clung to his wet forehead-

     “Enjoying the view, Inky?” Lavellan could have curled into herself out of embarrassment. Looking over her shoulder, she smiled unnecessarily hard at the smug-faced archer that snuck up on her.

     “Hello, Sera. How are you on this fine mountain afternoon?” She greeted, knowing her attempt to change the topic would fail. Sera responded with relentless teasing, making the poor inquisitor hide her face between folded arms resting on railing. Lifting her head to prop her chin on her arms, she tried to ignore the crude blonde behind her, only to find the object of her blatant affection shooting a cheeky grin her way.

     “See, Krem? I told you we had an audience,” Iron Bull joked as he jabbed his lieutenant in the ribs, voice unnecessarily loud. From the balcony, Lavellan could see the other chargers and others in the area following Bull’s eyes up to her spot.

     “So Your Worship, who do you think won?” Krem shouted, and Lavellan could feel the heat travel from her chest to the tips of her pointed ears—not even her dark skin could hide the blush if Sera’s ooo’s and aaa’s were any indication. They both knew there was no winner; it was just training, hardly fighting. She groaned and rolled back through the window and into the cushiony side room.

     Skulking out of the tavern, she could hear the Chargers snickering. She shot Bull a dirty look as she passed on her way to talk to her favorite Seeker, and looked straight ahead as she passed a smug-looking Krem; she wouldn’t have her ego wounded again.

     “Hey, Inquisitor!” Krem called, and Lavellan screamed internally. Instead of salvaging what was left of her pride and moving on, she looked calmly over her shoulder and quirked an eyebrow at (her favorite) Charger.

     “Yes, Krem?” She wouldn’t go down without a fight.

     “If you wanted to see me shirtless, all you had to do was ask!” 

      Why did she even try?

      …

      …

(Making him laugh, she thought late that night, was worth the week of teasing she had to endure and then some.)


	2. Questions and Answers

                Lavellan _lived_ for things like this.

                She sat with Bull and his Chargers, enjoying watching them drink and laugh boisterously as she sipped some watered-down beverage. She got to learn everyone’s names and what they brought to the group, they got to learn a little about the legendary Herald of Andraste. In the malformed circle she found herself sitting in, long legs pulled in and crossed at the ankles, Lavellan’s eyes darted between Bull and Krem as they shot insult after insult at each other.

                “Well Boss, if you ever need advice on binding you know where to find me,” Krem laughed, ending the bickering for a time. To his left, he caught the Inquisitor’s intense gaze. _Shit._

                “You alright there, Boss? You look lost,” Bull joked, but everyone went silent. The Chargers knew what was going on and wondered how their Lady Inquisitor would react—hopefully well, they respected her and to lose that respect so easily would be shameful. They watched as her furrowed brows slowly rose towards her hairline, mouth forming an ‘O’ as her eyes closed in understanding.

                “I see,” was all she said on the matter before continuing to nurse her drink, looking back at the group for conversation. When she found all eyes on her, her eyes widened innocently. “What?”

                “That’s it?” Krem laughed, incredulous. That wasn’t at all what he was expecting. “You’re not gonna ask?”

                “No?” She gave him a questioning look, as if her response should have been obvious. Bull sat quietly for once, watching the scene play out. Lavellan noticed, but dismissed it as a Ben-Hassrath thing. “I don’t tend to question people about what they’ve got in their pants, Krem.”

                “Unless they’re a hunk of a Qunari who doesn’t leave much to the imagination.”

                “Yes, unless they’re you, Bull,” She laughed, and conversation continued as normal as the two started their playful flirting routine. Over the course of the night, Lavellan kept catching Krem’s eyes on her, though she didn’t say anything about it—no need to put him on the spot. She was tempted to shoot him a wink, but decided that was too forward.

           

* * *

 

                Much later, as she walked back to her quarters, Lavellan found herself stopped by her favorite lieutenant.  

                “Your Worship, do you…really not have any questions?” He asked, looking up at her with an almost serious demeanor. He didn't know why he cared so much about what she thought, brushing it off as not wanting issues with the most important person around. Lavellan looked down at the hand on the crook of her arm and back at Krem, surprising him when she smiled and put her smaller hand on his.

(That would always catch him off guard; she could be as tall as any elf he’d ever encountered, but her hands were still so dainty, callouses or no.)

                “I don’t. If you want to _tell me_ , on the other hand…” She gave him that sweet smile of hers and he felt his face heat up. If she noticed, she had spared him for the second time that night. “You know you can tell me anything, right? I’ll listen.”

                When he finally took her up on her offer, she stayed true to her word.

                (“You’re lucky, Krem,” She laughed over a pint of her favorite watered-down drink one night, nudging him in the shoulder. “I’m usually not this good at keeping promises.”)


	3. Demands of the Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was no getting around it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Corny chapter title is corny.

Somehow, Lavellan found herself on a mission with Bull and his Chargers. It wasn’t like she didn’t want to be around them-quite the opposite frankly-it was that they seemed to operate as a separate entity from her—as long as they were doing good work, she didn’t mind that at all. But it was a welcome change. She saw it as Bull’s way of bonding with her, inviting her to work with arguably the most important people in his life. Sure it had to do with the Ben-Hassrath, and sure a good portion of Bull’s explanations might have gone over her head, but she saw the glimmer of excitement in his eye and had to agree—Lavellan would probably punch Corypheus in his dumb magister face if it made her companions happy.

(That was her darkest secret, that she was a big pushover.)

                There was also a bit of a silver-lining to the mission, one that looked a bit like one Cremisius Aclassi. She knew for a fact that Bull noticed how she tended to linger around the short-haired lieutenant, laughing particularly hard at his jokes and staying back when he talked to one of the other Chargers. One of those times, Bull let himself fall back, nudging the tall elf.

                “What’s this, Boss? Trying to seduce my lieutenant? Looking for a taste of his… _Krem de la Crème_?” Bull roared with laughter as Lavellan looked up at him with the most horrified look he’d ever seen on her face. He'd watched her face down an archdemon with more composure. The rest of the company looked back, chuckling along to a joke they likely didn’t hear. Krem knew the Inquisitor had a soft spot for him, so he felt no fear at teasing her while she was down.

                “What’s he saying, Your Worship?” He called over his shoulder when he saw the flush on her cheeks. “Don’t let the horned bastard trick you into bed!”

                That got a laugh out of everyone, Lavellan included. Punching Bull playfully in the shoulder, the Inquisitor tried to trot over to her favorite lieutenant, stories of Bull’s perverse words ready to fall from her tongue before she found herself pulled (gently) back to the large Qunari. The Iron Bull held her like a lover in a play, dramatic and uncomfortably, challenging his lieutenant to a fight for the elf’s love.

                How they met up with Gatt on schedule is beyond them.

* * *

 

                The mission went nothing like expected.

                “I’m sorry, Bull,” was the first thing Lavellan said when they got Skyhold, placing a dainty hand on his oversized arm as he chuckled flippantly. The frown that followed did not go unnoticed.

                “It’s okay, Boss,” Bull started, his large palm engulfing Lavellan’s smaller one in a comforting motion. “This one’s on me. I can’t let you take the blame for this.”

                She thought of arguing, too used to shouldering the blame, but she saw that look in his eye and sighed; there was no point. Instead, she squeezed his hand comfortingly, honestly surprised that he reciprocated the action, settling for a quiet “I still think you did the right thing.”

                “So do I.”

                Whatever silence promised to fall over the two was broken by the appearance of everyone’s favorite lieutenant, excitedly telling Bull that the rest of the company was breaking open casks and waiting on him.

                “Oop. Sorry, Your Worship, didn’t see you there,” Krem apologized after Bull scolded him for announcing that in front of the Inquisitor, who waved off the apology—no harm done. Both she and Krem noticed the hand on Bull’s arm at the same time, and the latter of the two shot his boss a look of both amusement and (if you asked Bull) a little bit of jealousy. “Interrupting something, am I?”

                “What, Krem Puff? Worried I’m making moves on your girl while you’re not around?” Bull taunted, his one eye twinkling mischievously. Krem’s face burnt a bright red at the accusation and, before the laughing Lavellan could stop him, he fled, telling his boss he could join them when “he was done flirting with the most important person in Thedas.”

                Lavellan frowned up at her Qunari—technically Tal-Vashoth now, if Gatt’s words meant anything—companion, who laughed in turn. She found her voice had raised in pitch out of embarrassment, lapsing into the Dalish accent she thought she left at the Conclave. “Bull, you embarrassed him!”

                Bull could only bark in laughter, muttering something about puppy love as he walked her over to the tavern.

               

               


	4. Lace and Luck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She couldn't deny her luck.

                Despite all the bullshit Lavellan had to deal with—snarky nobles, assassination attempts, an immortal magister and the hole he tore in the sky, etc.—she couldn’t deny how lucky she was.

Case in point: the Inquisition’s most treasured scout, Lace Harding.

                Not only had the dwarf been so brave as to confess to the _Herald of Andraste—_ likely with all the flirting Lavellan subjected her to backing her up—but she also went the extra mile by staying with her when the elf proved to be far from the perfect hero some made her out to be, being understanding when she confessed that she had feelings for one Cremisius Aclassi, and even going so far as to try and _help set them up._

To Lavellan, Lace was more than luck, she was a miracle. Though she was still quite young, only a few years into her twenties, her peculiar love life left her with a few lovers in her wake. She was anything but a heartbreaker; her ability to love more than one, more than what was acceptable in most places, person at a time had just given everyone the wrong idea. See, if there was one thing she refused to do, it was lie; she would not, _could not,_ fall for another and not let her lover know—they deserved at least that much, lest the guilt chip away at her until she caved. Unsurprisingly, none of them took it well.

                None of them until Lace.

                She had a feeling Sera might’ve had something to do with it, what with how she took it upon herself to always tease the Inquisitor while she spoke to the scout, and how, just days before Lavellan found herself confronted by the dwarf, she had seen Sera hanging around her outside the Herald’s Rest.  Dorian was also a suspect; she had heard how he talked about how “cute and cool the Inquisitor thought Scout Harding was!” whenever said scout was in earshot at the camp. She’d chew him out for that someday (even though it was true).

* * *

 

                “I understand, Ellana.”

                Lavellan almost didn’t believe it when she heard it, but the way Lace’s sweet, green eyes bore into hers with everything _but_ hate behind them, the way she squeezed the elf’s slender hand and smiled, she couldn’t not. It had been so long since she had heard her own name, it almost sounded foreign. She was so relieved to have someone that cared for her and believed that she cared back, she could’ve cried.

                “Do you really?” She laughed, catching a short sob as it forced its way from her throat. Lace hugged the oversized elf, secretly honored that she was getting to see a side of the Inquisitor that most people forgot existed; she knew it wasn’t a loaded question, it was a confirmation. The dwarf made a sound of affirmation, relishing in Lavellan’s body heat as the mountain air was less than amiable at night. Why they chose the stairs for their secret rendezvous was beyond them, but it was better than trying to sneak past all the nobles that lingered around. “You aren’t just saying that because I’m the Herald, are you?”

                “I’ve seen the way you look at him, but I also saw how you looked at _me_ the same way. It’s not that hard to connect the dots,” Harding laughed, and Lavellan was sure there was more to it than that, but she wouldn’t press. For now, the elf just nuzzled into her girlfriend’s stomach, sighing contentedly. “Ya know, I never took you for much of a romantic, Inquisitor.”

                “Oh, Maker, I’m a hopeless sap. Tell me I’m pretty and I’d probably kiss your feet.”

                “’Maker’? Since when did you believe in the Maker?”

                “I don’t. Why’re you so focused on my religion? I just told you I’d kiss your feet.”

                “Hey, if the Herald of Andraste wants to kiss my feet, who am I to refuse her?”

                Lavellan doesn’t know who convinced Lace that she was “just a nobody,” and they better hope to whatever god they believe in that she never finds out.


	5. Falling for You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan gets revenge for that one time at the training grounds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said I'd separate fillers and main chapters but I think I won't do that anymore, I don't really see the difference in them at this point haha.

“Pretty sure she’s still on an assignment, Krem!”

                The Qunari’s booming voice did not deter said lieutenant. Standing atop his favorite chair in his regular corner at the Herald’s Rest, he shot his boss a dirty look.

                “I-I’m just trying to hear Maryden better, that’s all, Boss!” He couldn’t be any more obvious. Ruffling his short hair and taking a swig of whatever it was he was drinking, Krem leaned back against the wall, trying to inconspicuously keep an eye on the door.

 His favorite inquisitor had left on business almost two weeks ago, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t worried. Of course, it wasn’t like she left alone—Sera, Dorian, and even demon kid Cole had gone with her, so she was in more than capable hands (and had pretty capable hands of her own, he noted, even without the whole “glowing hand” business)—but it bothered him. So he did what he always does when she leaves for long periods of time, he waited. Lavellan always came to the Tavern when she returned from missions, it was just about the first place she went after her room. She’d make her rounds talking to her companions, usually starting with Bull or Sera and working outwards from there. Back at Haven, he had actually been a little jealous that she didn’t talk to him as much as she did everyone else (and if she did it was only about business), but Bull cleared that up right away.

 _“Why don’t you talk to Krem? Seemed like he wanted to talk to you earlier,” He had heard his boss say nonchalantly, around the time everyone had just started getting settled into Skyhold. From his chair, he could hear the whole conversation. Peeking from the corner of his eye, he had seen Lavellan_ _rub her chin in consideration._

_“Hmm…probably wants to report back on how the Haven mission went…” She said thoughtfully, and Krem winced; was that what she thought of him? Bull laughed, making them both jump._

_“No, Boss, I think he just wanted to talk.”_

_“…Really?”_

_Krem waited expectantly. Sure enough, the sound of a chair scraping against the old wood floor caught his attention, keeping it once the lady of the hour sat down next to him, bottle in hand._

_“Y-your Worship,” He acknowledged lamely, internally smacking himself, but the elf just beamed at him. He couldn’t help but admire her smile—it was persistent, even as she opened her mouth to talk._

 “Helloooo, Krem? You there?”

Said lieutenant would have fallen out of his chair had everyone’s favorite herald not caught him by the waist and steadied him. Somewhere on the other side of the tavern, Iron Bull was bent over in his chair laughing, ale spilt on the floor. Behind Krem, his fellow Chargers were hooting and teasing him, and the poor boy flushed bright red as he settled down into a sitting position in his seat. Lavellan let go to get a chair like she always did when she wanted to talk to him, kicking her large warrior companion in the shin for “embarrassing him” as she passed him. Krem smiled fondly at her back as he rubbed his side; his favorite inquisitor had probably left marks trying to make sure he didn’t fall.

Pulling up a chair and resting an elbow on her knee, she smiled smugly at him as she propped her head in her hand. Face still flushed, Krem took a shaky sip from his bottle, eyeing her suspiciously.

“Y-your Worship?”

“Well, Krem, looks like you’ve _fallen for me_ , huh? Can’t say I blame you, I _am_ pretty great.”

Revenge was sweet.


	6. Talking to the Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan and Lace have a little heart to heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not to sure about this one, but hopefully you guys will enjoy it.  
> (this is the second of three chapters uploaded today by the way!)

“Lace…”

                “Yes, Your Worship?”

                 Lavellan tilted her head back, shooting the dwarf (who had been very comfy resting her head on the elf’s curly hair) a disapproving look. Harding grinned, pressing a kiss to the now exposed forehead. Lavellan huffed, resting her chin in her palms. The two of them sat on the stairs in a quiet part of the mountain keep, the elf sitting on a lower step between her lover’s knees. She needed space to think, and she wouldn’t get that with people constantly looking to her for answer to things she barely understood. Behind her, Harding leaned over to get a better look at her face, honestly surprised to see such a serious expression.

                “A-are you upset? I didn’t know it bothered you-”

                Pulled from her thoughts by the nervous voice behind her, Lavellan twisted to calm her partner.

                “No, no! It’s not that at all….” A look of realization crossed Harding’s face, and she grinned knowingly. Lavellan was getting really tired of people grinning at her like that.

                “Is the _Herald of Andraste_ really hung up over a _boy_?” She smiled, laughing when the elf’s cheeks started glowing red. She groaned, pushing her face into Harding’s stomach as the dwarf rubbed her head. She started talking, but was muffled by the scout mail. “Sorry, can’t hear you.”

                “I was _saying_ that I was this distressed when I liked you too, before we got together,” Harding let out a little _aww_ at that, making her pout as she continued. “Only I wasn’t _dating someone else_ when you asked me out. So not only do I not know if he likes me, but if he’d even _date me_ if he did. Can’t say I’d blame him if he turned me down. Called me an ‘adulterer’ or something.”

                “ _Lavellan._ This is _Krem_ we’re talking about, right? He’s absolutely head over heels!”

                “Okay but! Are you sure! What if he isn’t? What if he gets upset!” The elf warrior was practically vibrating with energy, gripping Harding’s arms as said dwarf tried not to laugh.

                “Look, if what the other scouts told me is true—and I think it is—then he’s been looking at me, too! Who in their right mind would turn down a package deal that involved the _HERALD OF ANDRASTE_ anyways?” Harding laughed, shaking her head. Her much larger lover pouted up at her, hugging her waist.

                “ _Lace…”_

“You’re going to have to figure this out yourself sooner or later.”

                That got her a blank stare.

                “Myself? You’re involved in this too, Harding.”

                “I’ve got to go, Your Worship. Scouting duties and whatnot—you know how it is.”

                Placing a chaste kiss upon her whiny partner’s head, Harding jogged off to meet up with the rest of her team—there was no point in Lavellan chasing after her, she knew she wasn’t lying. Instead, she laid out on the steps, watching the clouds with furrowed brows. Did _everything_ in her life have to be so complicated?


	7. Big Damn Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, well, well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the third chapter I uploaded today!

Despite all the pushing from all sides to confess to Krem—Lavellan hated how childish that sounded, confessing—it was very much a spur of the moment kind of thing.

                She had somehow caught him by himself one evening, away from the Chargers and Bull and anyone else who would make the situation awkward. The glow of the torches scattered around Skyhold kept the keep well lit, and she caught herself admiring how the light bounced off his face before she even realized it was him she was looking at. Her favorite lieutenant was sat on a bench near the tavern, smiling warmly at her as she approached. Maybe it was the faint sounds one of Maryden’s songs or the way he sat, comfortable and pleasantly surprised, but the whole situation seemed very…romantic.

                “Going for a walk, Your Worship?” He smiled, oddly calm. Lavellan didn’t like that smile of his, it made her heart beat much too fast. Swallowing, she strode over to him, hands clasped in front of her as she looked down at him.

                “Ah, yes. Would you…like to join me?” She tried very hard not to make her nervousness obvious, but the way his eyes widened and his smile faltered made the warrior quake a little—imagine that, the world’s only hope shaking in her boots over a cute boy. Straightening his back, he stood, almost reaching Lavellan’s eyes. She took a step back, out of his personal space, not realizing she was biting her lip expectantly. He certainly noticed. Holding out his elbow, that same charming grin made its way across his face.

                “Lead the way,” was his answer, and the elf couldn’t help but wonder where all this confidence came from. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she hoped someone tipped him off—maybe Bull?—it would certainly make things easier. Placing a lightly trembling hand into the crook of his elbow, she led him off without a word.

               

                They warmed up to each other fairly quick. Just wandering around Skyhold, they learned of each other’s ages (“Robbing the cradle, eh?” Krem joked when he found she was a few years older than he; the resulting blow to his ribs was worth the look on her face), what their families were like, what life had been like before the sky opened up. It was…comfortable, just walking and laughing and enjoying themselves really. If all the teasing and subtle flirting was building up to this, then neither of them regretted it.

                “I had a pet nug, you know? Her name was Thaig and-”

                “Wait, wait,” Krem laughed incredulously. The two had ended up in Lavellan’s quarters of all places and, after a lot of teasing from Krem, they sat on the perch looking down over the room, backs to the lower wall as Lavellan rambled about her youth. “’ _Thaig_ ’? That’s what you named a _nug_?”

                “I was a child, it made sense at the time!” She exclaimed, huffing indignantly. She couldn’t stop the small grin from showing when Krem poked her ribs trying to get her to talk to him. The two fell into a comfortable silence, the elf even going so far as leaning into him. He seized up, but just as Lavellan made to move away and apologize, he chuckled and leaned into her as well.

                “How do you do it?” She could feel Krem’s eyes on her as he spoke, and she closed hers as she thought of an answer. She knew what he was asking: how do you deal with the responsibility, how can you handle all of this pressure? Truth be told, she didn’t have a clue.

                “Just between you and me?” She snorted, reveling in the feeling of his cheek brushing against her shoulder. “I have no idea what I’m doing, I just kind of make it up as I go.”

                Krem made a noise of understanding before the two fell back into that quiet, though his sudden grip on her did not go unnoticed. He was burning holes into her cheeks with his gaze, but she just looked out one of the many windows in her room, heart racing. She was gonna say it, gonna tell him-

                Before she could open her mouth, she felt slightly chapped lips press against her cheek, warm hand gripping her thigh as Krem used the leverage to kiss her. Pulling away, Lavellan saw that his face was ablaze but he waited expectantly for some sort of response. And what a response he got.

                It started off chaste enough, it really did. Lavellan pulled the boy in for another kiss, holding him close by his jaw. His grip tightened on her thigh as he twisted to deepen the kiss, his favorite inquisitor very willing to help. They laughed as they separated what felt like minutes later, rushing blood and heavy breaths breaking the silence of the dim room.

                “You’re a regular romantic, Your Worship,” Krem said breathlessly, somehow tangling himself further into the elf, who smiled fondly as she rubbed her cheek on his head. The Charger Lieutenant’s heart swelled a little when he realized that this was who the Inquisitor really was, who _Ellana_ really was; a big, cheesy romantic. He was just about to go in for another kiss when he saw the look in her eye, one certainly not befitting of the situation.

                “I-inquisitor?”

                “So…..” Lavellan looked away from him, sweat beginning to bead on her forhead. How is she supposed to say this?! Better now than never, but still… “So Krem, ah….what if I told you…that I was….seeing? Someone? Heh...Oh boy.”

                He started to pull away.

                “Oh, well this is awkw-“

                “No! No, no! She thinks you’re great! She’s the one that’s been pushing me to ask you out!”

                Krem was, well, confused would be an understatement.

                “I’m not usually one to turn down an invitation to a threesome, Your Worship, but-“

                “What is it with you and Harding and calling me ‘Your Worship’? You’ve both kissed me, you’d think titles didn’t follow me into the bedroom,” Lavellan mumbled, clearly catching him off guard. Good, that was kind of the plan.

                “Wait, Harding? Like, _Scout_ Harding? The cute dwarf Hard-“

                “Well, well, well. You don’t seem as apprehensive now that cute scouts are involved, huh, Krem? I should have known…” She tutted. It was Lavellan’s turn to shoot a smug grin down at him as the blush that had just about finished receding rushed back up in a marvelous bloom across his pretty face. She’d never get tired of that. Whatever retort he was planning fell out of his mouth a jumbled mess. Instead, he pressed himself into Lavellan’s chest and laughed, wrapping his arms around her waist. Lavellan slid until her body hit the floor, taking him with her and returning them to their tangled state. As Krem dozed off into the Herald’s chest (“ _guess he’s a chest guy_ ” _Ellana would muse for many nights to come_ ), the elf couldn’t bring herself to join him.

                “Wait until Lace hears about this…”


	8. Toss and Turn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan can't sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! This is set farther in the trio's relationship, more of a filler than anything.

                The first time Lavellan shared a bed with her lovers, she couldn’t sleep a wink. She lay on her side, atop Krem’s chest with his arm wrapped around her shoulders, with Lace cuddled up against her back; drowsy as the elf was, sleep would not take her. Ever since the conclave, she’d had trouble sleeping at night—not so much during the day, much to her advisors’ chagrin—and the addition of two people in her oversized bed didn’t help as much as she’d expected. Now she was struck by the urge to move, to wriggle and toss and turn and she _couldn’t_ and it was driving her _nuts_. She huffed, trying not to wake the warrior she was sleeping on, but needing some way to release her frustration.

                “Can’t sleep, Your—ah, Ellana?” Through the dark, the elf could see Krem, eyes still shut, smiling sleepily down at her. His voice cracked from a night of disuse, and Lavellan found the vibrations it sent through his chest oddly nostalgic, like the comfort of laying on her father’s chest as a child.

                “Sorry, did I wake you?”

                Krem let out a small huff of laughter, finally cracking an eye open. “You’re bouncing your leg pretty hard.”

                Ah, so she was.

                “Ah. Whoops.” She kissed his jaw, sheepish and apologetic.

                She’d thought he’d fallen back asleep after a minute of no response (he probably did), but she found herself being gently pulled to lay chest-to-stomach with him, warm hands meeting at her lower back.

                “That better?” She simply hummed in response, laying with an ear to his chest. His breathing slowed and the faint sound of snoring Lavellan hadn’t noticed stopped returned once again. From this angle she could get a proper look at Lace, hair down and falling around her face messily. Her mouth was slightly ajar, face peaceful, and Lavellan couldn’t help but reach out and caress her cheek. She went to tuck some hair behind the dwarf’s ear and away from her mouth when a chubby hand caught hers, guiding it down to soft lips for a drowsy kiss before falling back to the bed, Lavellan’s dainty hand still in her lax grip.

                Night was almost over, Lavellan could tell, but the combination of Krem’s heartbeat below her and Lace’s comforting hold on her lulled her into a sleep that not even the threat of waking up late could beat.


End file.
